


Too Soon

by sanserif



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Graphic Sex, M/M, Marathon Sex, Oral Sex, but not for the sex, canonical deaths, mentions of emotional manipulation, reference to Bondage, stiles is a bit tied up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanserif/pseuds/sanserif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fire, Derek chose to forget ever meeting his mate. But apparently he doesn't have a choice in that and he soon gets thrust into the path of his mate, whether he wants it or not.<br/>Author's note: This fic is under construction. Current chapters are being re-written and an attempt is being made at finishing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first fanfic, but the first on this site. Enjoy!

Derek was 16 when he first saw his mate. He knew exactly who he was as soon as he saw him. His hormone addled brain instantly made the connection and before he knew it, he was crossing the street to get to where the young boy was. A car horn startled him out of his daze and he quickly jumped out of the way of the oncoming traffic with reflexes that came with being a 16 year old born werewolf. When he looked up again a pair of light brown eyes was staring straight at him, curiosity the most forefront of the emotions on his open face.

He couldn't have been more than ten years old and Derek felt a sudden sickness at himself. He knew what all of this meant. He'd grown up with mated werewolves, his parents being only one such couple. And if there was one thing he knew for sure about mating, it was that it was a very sexual process. He'd never heard of anyone finding their mate at such a young age. His mother had met his father at college and from what he'd been told, a similar thing had happened with his uncle Peter. He hadn't heard of anyone in his family finding their mate at 16. And he'd never heard of anyone  _ever_ being mated to a child.

All this barrelled through his head as he gazed into those whisky eyes and they stared right back. It must have only been a few seconds before the older man holding the boy's hand pulled the boy away from Derek's line of sight, into a tall building - a hospital, Derek noticed. It was then that a hand fell onto Derek's shoulder, startling him. He turned to his uncle Peter with a bewildered look on his face, unsure what to do.

"I know that look," was all Peter said to him, his trademark smirk lifting his lips at the corners.

Derek cleared his throat. "What look?" he croaked. 

"That kid. He's your mate, isn't he?"

Derek pressed his lips together angrily. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Peter's left eyebrow arched. "Well, I somehow don't think that the man holding the boy's hand is the one who grabbed your attention."

"It was just some kid," Derek huffed, moving to walk away from the hospital, back the way he'd been going in the first place. Something tugged inside him, urging him to go back, go inside the hospital and find that kid. To do what, Derek didn't know, but he wasn't willing to find out.

He felt Peter following him closely, could almost feel his smug gaze. While Peter was Derek's personal favourite uncle, the man really didn't back down from something that interested him. He liked to play games and before that moment, Derek had mostly been able to stay out of those games. But, whatever. He'd never see the kid again and he'd be fine with that and Peter would give up. He was 16, old enough to know that he was too young for commitment, not to mention the fact that dating a 10 year old is more than a little illegal. So, he'd just live life as usual and forget he ever saw those whisky eyes.

Somewhere inside him though, a thought stirred. A thought that screamd that it was unfair of fate to dangle his mate in front of him, but to keep him just out of his reach. It'd been so easy for everyone else. His mom had just been walking around the quad at her college and she'd met his dad and they dated, got married and had kids, living happily ever after. That was how mating was supposed to go in his head. Not this giant fuck-up of a situation. This was some cruel joke being played on him.

And soon enough, he'd come to think of that moment as the moment when his luck ran out.

Because not long after meeting his mate, he met Kate Argent.

~

When he arrived home with uncle Peter, he was determined to go straight to his room and avoid all human and/or werewolf contact. Because as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, meeting his mate and not being able to do anything about it was like a kick to the gut. Of course, his newly turned luck wouldn't hear of that.

"Guess who saw his mate today," Peter announced to the family at large, any werewolves in the house picking up the slightly elevated volume of his voice.

Instantly, Derek was surrounded by his family. Laura and Cora, Derek's older and younger sisters respectively, were looking especially eager, thrilled at the prospect of gossip, while Tyler, the eldest brother looked mildly curious, his earnest grey-green eyes slightly enlarged by his glasses. Being the only non-were of the four siblings meant that Tyler inherited the long-sighted gene from their father's side of the family.

It was Derek's mother who spoke first. "Who is the lucky girl?"

Derek felt his face, which had already been sporting a frown since Peter's announcement, darken further with a scowl. "Not a girl. And certainly not lucky."

The response was immediate from Cora. She let out a small squeal and bit her lip, attempting to hide her glee. She'd always been saying that it was "statistically unlikely that in such a large family, not one family member is homosexually inclined."

A whispered, "I knew it," came from Laura, a smirk that rivalled Peter's appearing on her face.

Talia sent disapproving looks to her two daughters before reaching for her younger son. She pulled him through the large house and into the lounge, the rest of the family following conspicuously close.

Talia sat Derek down on one of the couches and sat beside him, her face betraying no emotion besides concern. "Derek." He looked up at her, though no hint of an Alpha's command was present. He sought comfort from his mother. "It seems to me that perhaps meeting your mate wasn't what you expected." He brow creased slightly before she started her next sentence. "While you may not have felt any inclination towards men before, a mate is the one that is exactly perfect for you."

It took Derek a second to realise what she was insinuating. "What? No, that's not what's wrong here."

Talia's face gentled then. Obviously she'd been worried about a possibly homophobic son. "Then what is, dear?"

Derek turned away from her, feeling shame even though he had no more control over who his mate turned out to be than he had control over the weather. "Mom, he's just a kid."

He didn't look up straight away, but when the silence lingered, he dared glance up. Talia was staring off distantly.

"Mom?" he whispered. 

"How old?"

"I don't know. Maybe ten?"

His mother hmmed before breaking her stare to look at her son. "I'm afraid, Derek, that the only thing to be done is to be patient."

That wasn't exaclty the answer Derek had been hoping for. He'd wanted a quick fix. He felt anger boil up inside him. It burst forth in a yell. "It's not fair!" He breathed deeply, trying to control his emotions, but after such a blow he wasn't able to. He jumped up off the couch, passing by the sadened faces of his siblings and the concerned face of his father, who had been silent throughout the proceedings.

He was slamming the door before he knew where he was headed. He started to run as soon as he got outside. Not long after, he found himself at a cafe, sitting at a small table by himself, deciding to create a pity party for himself.

He'd been there ten minutes when someone approached him.

"Hey there, cutie. You're looking a little glum."

He looked up into the face of a pretty blonde, way too pretty to be talking to him. "Hi," he mumbled.

Her mouth lifted on one side. "I'm Kate. Who are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update. The first chapter was kind of a spur of the moment thing and continuing took a little bit of a push to get going. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

After the fire, Derek and Laura fled Beacon Hills and ended up in New York. They left behind their old lives and started anew. Laura started college, forcing Derek to  finish school and from there decide on his own future. It wasn't until he was 20 that he figured out what he wanted to do. So he studied.

Peter, the only other surviving member of their family, was lying comatose in a long-term care facility in the city. Laura visited him every week. Derek could only muster up the courage to visit twice a ear, on the anniversary of the fire and again on Peter's birthday. It was on those two days that the guilt was at its strongest and the visits mostly consisted of him sitting silently in the chair in front of his uncle, head bent low and hands clasped tightly together, listening to Peter breath. It was almost reassuring, but memories of the loud man he used to be haunted Derek until he left with a whispered apology.

Six years passed after the fire. Six years since he lost his family, his home, his happiness. And yet, no matter how long it had been, he never forgot those wide brown eyes from before everything had gone wrong. They haunted his dreams almost as much as the fire did and so many times he'd woken up with heart-wrenching longing to search for those eyes and the boy that went with it. But whenever that thought crossed his mind, he only had to think of the boy's age. He knew the exact date of his birthday after Peter had done some investigating. He'd pretended to be aloof at the time, tried to preoccupy himself with Kate, but every year that date passed by, it felt like something was coming closer. But he didn't know what.

So, six years meant that the boy was sixteen, growing into a man. And as much as he didn't want it to, the thought enticed Derek.

But he didn't deserve the happiness that the boy would give him, so he shut the thoughts away as best he could and just lived a day at a time.

~

Derek heard Laura arrive long before she enterred the apartment building, attuned as he was to her heartbeat as his sister and his alpha. It beat slightly faster than usual and when he listened to her footsteps, the were hurried and determined sounding. When she finally entered their apartment, he saw that her face matched her gait.

"What's up?"

She barely glanced at him on her way to her bedroom. "Something's come up. I have to take care of it."

Derek's eyebrows furrowed as they were often wont to do. "What kind of something?"

She came out of her bedroom then, stopping a few feet from him with a duffel bag in her hand, clothes hurriedly stuffed inside. "The kind that means I have to go away for a while."

"Go where?" He watched her move over to the desk at the window, picking up a few things and placing them in the bag.

"Beacon Hills." She didn't look up as she said it. The words sounded so innocent coming out of her mouth, but their impact nearly knocked the breath out of Derek. They'd agreed six years ago that they would never go back to Beacon Hills, that the place was dead to them, as dead as their family.

He stood up from the couch where he'd been working at his laptop. "What's in Beacon Hills?"

She turned around again, taking the bag to the bathroom, briefly glancing at him as she passed. "Nothing important. I just have to check on somthing."

Derek followed her to the bathroom, watching her grab hairbrush, toothpaste and whatever products she felt she would need. "Laura, if it wasn't important, you wouldn't be going back there."

"Drop it Derek." There was an edge to her voice and he narrowed his eyes at her. She brushed passed him again and he turned with her, watching as she glanced around the room to check for anything she'd missed.

"Laura, what's going on."

Her eyes shot up to him, flashing Alpha red. "I said,  _drop it_." The command was evident in her tone and Derek immediately shut up.

"When are you coming back?" he asked, instead of pressing the issue.

She stood in front of him, zipping her bag. "A week? Maybe more. Just...try to stay out of trouble."

He looked into her eyes, saw the worry there and nodded silently.

She smirked at him. "Or maybe a little trouble would be good for you."

Derek scowled back, used to her jests about his mood.

Her face turned serious again. "Goodbye, Derek."

"'Bye," he muttered, followed by a pair of arms wrapping around him tightly. He hugged her back. "Be safe," he whispered into her shoulder.

She pulled away, heading to the door. "I always am. Later little bro."

And with that, she was gone.

~

It was two days after Laura's departure that he got the note. On it was the name of a hotel, and a room number. Taped to it was a keycard.

Usually, Derek wasn't a particularly curious man. He'd learnt to keep his business his own. He didn't often stick his neck out for curiosity's sake. But this note tickled that bone inside him.

The hotel wasn't the most fancy place in the city, but it was expensive and hard to book. When he arrived there he immediately knew that something was off. There was a familiar scent underlying the hotel's natural smell. He remembered smelling it once before. Trepidation rose within him as he approached the elevator. The wait for it to arrive seemed excrutiatingly long and when it arrived, burdened with tourists and the like, he barely waited for them to depart before he rushed on, pressing the button frantically. The movement of the elevator seemed to take an age. Derek felt his anxiety rise, the scent becoming stronger, intoxicating. It was all he could do not to rip the doors open when he arrived on the right floor.

The door to the room labelled on the keycard was at the far end of the hallway and he all but ran to it, brushing past an elderly woman, almost knocking her over in his distraction. But when he reached the number that matched the card, he stopped, the card hovering over the slot where he held it.

Derek took a moment to breath and cast out his senses. Other than the intoxicating scent, he heard a heartbeat within, slightly elevated. Taking a deep breath, he slotted the key card and turned the handle when the light turned green.

The light was off inside, only the light from streetlights filtering through the window illuminating the room - not that the light mattered to Derek. At the sound of the door being opened, the heartbeat within picked up, though what emotion caused that elevation was unknown until he took a breath. Fear. He could smell it. Whoever was in here was terrified. And he had an idea of who it could be.

He walked the small hall and came round the corner, shocked by the sight that greeted him. A boy, sixteen was sitting tied to the headboard of the double bed, naked down to his boxers and blindfolded. "Who's there?" the boy spoke, voice shaking. "Seriously, my dad's a cop, a sheriff, so kidnapping me was a big mistake." The boy's head swivelled from side to side, attempting to pinpoint the location of the intruder.

When he'd seen who was on the bed, Derek had frozen, but as the boy spoke, he jumped back into action. "It's all right," he said, his voice rougher than he had intended. "I'm not going to hurt you."

A snort from the boy's throat surprised Derek. "Like I'm going to believe that. But if you do hurt me, my dad has ways of killing someone and making sure they never find the body."

Derek felt a smirk rise on his face and quickly tamped it down. He reached over to the boy, careful not to touch his skin, knowing the contact would lead to other things - things he did not deserve - pulling the blindfold off his face before starting on the knots tying him to the bed. He refused to look into the whiskey brown eyes blinking up at him, keeping his eyes on the task.

"Hey, I know you."

Derek froze, the loops coming undone finally in his fingers. He looked slowly up at the boy, the shock on his face evident. "No, you don't."

He quickly pulled the ropes away from the boy's wrists and stood up, holding the course twine between his fingers, unsure what to do. He dropped the rope to the floor and took one last look at the boy before turning to the door.

"Hey, wait!" A hand caught his arm, thankfully on his sleeve, creating no skin to skin contact. He slowly turned back to the boy, the heat of his hand branding him. "I don't understand what's happening? First I'm kidnapped, then I wake up in a randon hotel room, tied to the bed and then you walk in and untie me? Was it you that did this? Why? I  _don't understand_."

That was more words than Derek had been ecpecting and he stared for a second into the hypnotic eyes before answering. "I didn't do this to you. You're free now. Go home."

Derek again began to turn away, but the hand stopped him again, this time wrapped around his wrist. A small gasp sounded behind him and Derek was frozen. That touch alone sparked six years of repressed emotions and sexuality. He was filled with a blind want and from the sound of the boy's heartbeat and breathing, he wasn't the only one. Derek's air tight control wavered and he turned back to the boy - he should stop calling him that; he'd learnt his name years ago, the pronunciation weird enough that he apparently prefered to be called 'Stiles'. As soon as they were facing each other, Stiles lunged, taking Derek's lips with his own. Derek responded in kind, pressing Stiles' mouth open and slipping his tongue inside to taste him. The boy groaned and Derek felt the sound travel south and a growl sounded low in his throat. He pushed him up against the nearest wall, needing to be closer, needing to touch more. He ripped his mouth away so he could taste more of him, lowering his head to the column of pale flesh that was Stiles' neck. He bit down gently, hearing the boy's breathing hitch and soothing the hurt with his tongue. A whimper escaped the throat his attention was focused on.

In that moment, reason went out the window. Derek's control broke and he knew right then that they wouldn't be stopping any time soon. It was time to consumate the bond between mates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffy. If you can't tell, the next chapter will be smutty. Very smutty. And from Stiles' point of view. Until next time...


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles honestly could not believe the situation he found himself in. Tied to a bed in an unknown place, at an unknown time, who  _knows_ how far away from home. He had no idea how long it'd been since he'd been suddenly abducted. For all he knew, it could have been days that he'd been missing. The thought twisted his stomach as he thought of his dad, worrying over his absence, worry growing into fear and then into panic. Stiles wasn't sure if the sheriff's heart could take it, if that blood test Stiles had forced on him was to be believed. While the doctor said that it was nothing a good diet couldn't fix, Stiles didn't want to risk it.

But if his dad had surmised that he was missing at this point, he will probably have found Stiles' jeep, abandoned in the parking lot of the local supermarket. And, if no one had stolen them, the grocery bags that Stiles had just spent good, hard-earned money on. Healthy food was expensive and he hoped that whoever found it handed it in as evidence or something and his dad could put it away safely. Though, with Stiles missing, putting groceries away was probably low on his list of priorities.

Which brought Stiles back to his present predicament.

Stiles was a naturally curious person; a mix of ADHD and the detective blood from his father. So he'd once spent a night researching various ways a person could be kidnapped. Methods to a kidnapper's madness. He'd read about chloroform, about traps people had set in the past, blackmail. One thing he hadn't dealved deeply into was being knocked the fuck out with a sharp hit to the head from behind. It had seemed to obvious to be researched. There was no finesse to it. But, of course, his kidnapper didn't care about what Stiles thought of his methods. So, not only was Stiles kidnapped and tied to what seemed to be a bed, blindfolded, he was also sporting a throbbing headache. Thank you very much Mr. Kidnapper.

Waking up had been a thrilling affair. There were the first few moments of panic, then the struggling - and the chaffing from the struggling - then, upon realising that the ties were expertly knotted, acceptance and impatience. As mentioned, Stiles was a curious person, and the ADHD was causing him to be unbearable fidgety, not really helping with the painful chaffing. He never thought that being kidnapped could be so  _boring_.

Though there was one thing that he was trying desperately  _not_ to think about, lest he bring on a panic attack of epic proportions, the likes of which hadn't been seen since his mother's death. But, try as he like, he could not ignore the fact that he was completely naked but for his boxers, meaning that someone had undressed him while he was unconscious. He felt his heart rate pick up at what that could possibly mean. Whoever had taken him in that parking lot wanted him stripped down and in his agitated state, Stiles could only think of one reason someone would kidnap someone and strip him to his boxers and tie him to a bed. It was probably some sexual preditor who got off on teenage boys being tied up. Or the tying up could be so he didn't put up a fight. And the blindfold would be so he couldn't see his attacker - no, his rapi-

He couldn't let himself go there. His heart was already beating faster than usual.

And then he heard a door being opened.

It was the first sign of someone else being around that he'd heard since he woke up, hours earlier. His already elevated heart rate spiked higher and he frantically listened for any other sounds. The door was closed and he heard soft footsteps coming closer, though they were very light. Either the person was very stealthy, or they were small, with less weight.

Even though he knew he couldn't see, Stiles turned his head towards the sound of feet walking slowly towards him. They stopped at his movement and he could feel the person's eyes on him. "Who's there?" His voice faltered, failing him and displaying his fear. He tried to speak stronger. "Seriously, my dad's a cop, a sheriff, so kidnapping me was a big mistake." Again, Stiles turned his head, attempting to seek out the stranger in the room.

"It's all right," a voice spoke, sounding relatively young and distinctly male. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Stiles felt a histerical laugh build within him and before he could hold it back, it burst forth in a snort of derision. "Like I'm going to believe that." He figured a threat, however empty from his vulnerable position, couldn't hurt anything, so he told the intruder that his dad would avenge him like Stiles knew he would try to.

Before he knew it though, the blindfold was being lifted from him face and he was greeted with a darkened hotel room and a pair of dark eyes looking at the bonds typing Stiles to the bed before they began to loosen. He looked up at the face of his apparent rescuer and was startled by its familiarity.

"Hey, I know you." He spoke before he thought, but he imediately knew where he'd seen this man. First outside the hospital where his mother was getting tests done, before they knew how sick she was, and then again in a police report of his dad's, detailing a house fire that killed a family. And then he'd seen him again when he'd looked him up, somehow drawn to those sad eyes. Derek Hale.

Derek had frozen upon hearing his words, but now he looked up at Stiles, meeting his eyes for the first time since Stiles was ten. Stiles was again startled, this time by his eyes. The pictures he'd seen hadn't done them justice. They were green and brown at the same time as being blue and grey. Stiles could feel that his mouth was hanging open, as it was often wont to do.

"No you don't."

The bonds came loose and Stiles was left to worry at his wrists, trying to get the blood flowing there again. Derek stepped away from him, dropping the accursed rope before turning away from Stiles. But Stiles would not allow this man to walk out of his life so easily. He had some explaining to do.

Stiles jumped up off the bed and was reaching for Derek before he even opened hid mouth to call for him to wait. The unfathomable eyes were on him again, and though his face was a mask of indifference, the eyes betrayed a hidden power, coiled tight. It took a second for Stiles to find his voice again, but when he did, it burst forth from him a mile a minute. "I don't understand what's happening? First I'm kidnapped, then I wake up in a randon hotel room, tied to the bed and then you walk in and untie me? Was it you that did this? Why? I  _don't understand_."

Stiles could tell that the outburst surprised Derek. He'd seen the same look on so many faces before. People often weren't expecting Stiles.

"I didn't do this to you." Stiles was struck by this man's voice rather suddenly. For such a butch looking man, he expected something more growly. He had to say he preferred this. "You're free now. Go home."

And again, he attempted to just walk away from Stiles. Stiles reacted again, snatching Derek's wrist and tugging. But before he could complete the move of pulling the older man around and demanding answers, a rush ran through him. A sudden, insatiable desire hit him full force and left him gasping. Slowly - too slow - Derek turned back to him and Stiles could barely take a breath before he found himself pouncing on Derek's lips, mashing their lips together messily. Derek pressed back, pushing Stiles' willing mouth open and reaching his tongue inside for a taste.

Stiles, about five years of teenage sexual frustration hitting him full throttle, groaned deeply with want, not knowing what was happening here and not caring in the least. The taste of Derek was forefront on his mind, the feel of him pressed against him, the smell of him when he huffed in a desperate breath through his nose; the sound of him, a rumble in his chest startling Stiles even in his current state.

And then Stiles was being shoved up against a wall, not complaining at all. Derek broke their kiss and started mouthing down his throat, stopping at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and  _biting_ down sharply, causing Stiles to whimper as he followed the bite with his tongue.

Stiles was gripping tightly to leather, Derek's jacket doing nothing to hide the thick muscles underneath his hands. Not knowing what he was doing exactly, Stiles yanked on the jacket, trying to pull it off the older man's shoulds even while Derek's hands on Stiles' body were restricting the movement and he was caught between not wanting Derek to let go and needing these clothes  _off_. Derek solved that by pulling away briefly to shuck the jacket, yanking his top off fluidly after. He immediately went back to Stiles' neck, attacking his collarbone with licks and bites, leaving Stiles a panting mess. _  
_

There was a fumbling between them as Derek's hands left Stiles again and a quick glance down showed Derek working his pants off, never faltering with his work on Stiles' throat. Then a hand brushed accidentally against Stiles' crotch and a cry burst unbidden from his lips. He hadn't noticed how hard he was until that moment and Derek paused in his movements, pants halfway down his legs. Then, in a flurry of movement, they were kicked off and Derek was manhandling Stiles away from the wall and onto the centre of the bed. Stiles' heart picked up its beating at the implications of a bed and near-nakedness before he was again pulled into the moment by Derek sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Stiles relaxed and he found himself opening his legs for Derek to come between them, pressing close. The action caused both their aching arousals to press together, leaving both Stiles and Derek to groan into the other's mouth.

Derek got the idea in his head then to continue the motion, rocking gently against Stiles' lower body. Stiles, who had never been touched by another in a remotely sexual way save for an awkward game of spin the bottle at a party, found himself on the edge almost straight away and started clenching in preparation for what he knew would be a mind-blowing orgasm.

But Derek pulled away then, taking his mouth and body away from Stiles, leaving Stiles a whimpering mess beneath him. In his agitated state, he didn't notice the way Derek's eyes flashed blue as he looked down at the boy beneath him. But that didn't last long before he was back to his task, stripping the boy of his boxers, following with his own.

Stiles had never been all that coordinated and his hands had the habit of flailing a bit when he talked. So, he'd always worried that when the time came and he was having sexy times, he would completely ruin the moment either with flailing or just not knowing where to put his hands. He needn't have worried. His hands reached for Derek, one pressing flat on his rock hard stomach, the other at his hip, attempting to draw him back down to a newly naked Stiles. If he'd been in the right frame of mind, he would probably be staring at Derek's exposed dick and as it was, his heart spiked again at the size of him (whether in fear or excitement is unknown), but Stiles dindn't care quite enough, just needed to touch and be touched by Derek. And Derek did not disappoint, leaning back down and capturing Stiles' mouth in yet another heated kiss. He kept his hips away from Stiles' though and Stiles groaned in frustration at the lack of friction. Derek swallowed the sound with his mouth, licking soothingly along Stiles' lip, a sort of promise.

Yet again, Derek pulled back, but not far; just far enough to whisper lowly, "I'm going to fuck you."

A shiver ran through Stiles' entire body and he found himself nodding.

Above him, Derek closed his eyes and his nostrils widened as he took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he immediately reached over to the drawer of the bedside table, delving his hand inside and pulling out the concealed tube. Somewhere in his mind, Stiles was glad Derek had the frame of mind to remember the need for preparation, but mostly he just clenched at the implication.

And without further ado, Derek slicked up his fingers and started circling Stiles' opening tenderly. Stiles licked his lips, steeling himself for the feeling.

Stiles had once before tried fingering himself. He hadn't gotten past one finger, finding the process too uncomfortable when all he wanted was to get off. He hadn't really thought that he'd be doing anything with that particular orifice anytime soon.

Then Derek was pressing his finger inside and Stiles squirmed at the feeling. Derek's one finger was bigger than his own and, while he wasn't yet being stretched, the feeling of it inside him was wrong and his body fought to push it out. Derek pressed his lips gently to Stiles' cheek, soothing him as he pulled the finger slowly out before puching back in again. And out, and in, and out, and in. When the movement seemed easier, Stiles felt another finger asking for entrance at his hole. He forced his body to relax and it accepted the finger with little strain. There was a burning feeling as the girth of Derek's two fingers stretched Stiles open slightly, but the pain wasn't much and Stiles allowed himself to breath through it.

Stiles opened his eyes, not realising he'd closed them, finding himself staring at Derek as he watched the emotions pass over Stiles' face. The fingers inside him kept up their rhythm of in and out, gentle and steady and Stiles found himself lost in the feeling, not quite pleasurable, but no longer painful. It was only when Derek's fingers brushed against something inside him that Stiles reacted by arching his back, a cry escaping him at the new and magnificent feeling. Derek watched hungrily and Stiles found himself whimpering under the gaze as he pressed against that spot again and again.

Then there was a third finger pushing in, little warning and causing Stiles to gasp at the sudden stretch and burn. He found himself clenching painfully around the fingers, but Derek retaliated quickly by pressing again to that sweet spot inside Stiles that had him immediately relaxing around the intrusions. Derek started up the rhythm again of strethcing him out, scissoring his fingers to make room for what was to come. And that was a good thing because, while he wasn't enormous, Derek was certainly on the larger side and Stiles would need all the preparation he could get.

Which seemed to be over, as Derek was pulling his fingers out, causing another whimper to fall out of Stiles at the loss. He watched as Derek smoothed lube over his pulsing cock and fear and excitement caused him to start shaking slightly.

Derek slotted himself between Stiles' legs and leaned up to kiss him soothingly, distracting him as he rested his erection at Stiles' quivering hole. He made no move to enter quite yet, just kissing him, calming him.

When Stiles was thoroughly distracted though, he pushed, the head of his cock pushing through smoothly as Stiles gasped.

The sensation was similar but not to Derek's fingers. There was more fullness and there was a distinct feeling of there being one unit rather than several smaller ones. But what Stiles could concentrate on was the pain of it. The burn was there and the stretch felt like too much. And then Derek was pushing in further, just a centimeter or so. Stiles didn't know how the whole thing was going to fit inside him because he already felt full to bursting, like there was no room inside him for Derek to push into. But push he did and it seemed that there was enough room. Because Derek kept pushing and it wasn't long before his hips were flush against Stiles' thighs. And there he rested.

Stiles's breaths were coming in small pants and he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clenching tightly around Derek's thick biceps. Derek too was breathing fast, face pressing against the side of Stiles' neck, breaths puffing against heated skin.

Gradually, Stiles managed to relax himself again, loosening his vice-like grip on Derek's arms and his cock. He also opened his eyes and looked down, greeted with the glorious sight of wide shoulders, a vast expanse of tattoo'd skin, and Derek's ass. The sight caused Stiles' previously flagging erection to harden again where it was nestled between their bodies.

Feeling more at ease with the situation, Stiles decided that an experimental swivel of his hips was a good idea to test the waters. The resulting feeling caused him to moan softly, Derek returning the sound with one of his own, his more gutteral. And, it seemed, Stiles' movement was the invitation Derek had been waiting for. He gripped Stiles' legs and placed one on each of his shoulders, bending him in half beneath him before pulling his cock slowly out and, just as slowly, pushing all the way back in again. The friction inside Stiles was amazing and his mouth fell open in amazement, Derek groaning into his neck. He made the movement again, adding a roll of his hips, and that was even better, his cock dragging against Stiles' prostate, making his body sing and making Stiles croak out a yell.

It seemed that was another cue for Derek as he stepped up his pace then, pulling out and slamming back inside, ramming into Stiles in a move that caused Stiles to shift up on the bed. And that's how it continued, Derek fucking into Stiles while Stiles fought to control his breathing and his cries of pleasure, to no avail.

With each thrust in, Derek plundered Stiles' prostate, abusing it thoroughly and keeping Stiles incoherent, a writhing mess beneath him.

Stiles' orgasm snuck up on him. He didn't even manage to touch his own cock, or to cry out a warning before he was coming in stripes over his and Derek's chests, clenching hard around the cock still thrusting inside him. It was quite honestly the most intense orgasm Stiles had yet to experience. His vision whited out and sound stopped for a moment. He was sure that he cried out, loudly, but he didn't hear it, only felt the vibrations of it in his throat.

When he came back down from his high, Derek was still thrusting into him desperately, the feeling of his cock fucking against his oversensitive prostate almost too much. And then Derek was stilling above him and a sudden heat flooded within him. In a moment of clarity in his post-orgasm haze, Stiles realised that Derek hadn't worn a condom and the feeling was Derek coming inside him. Strangely, surprising even himself, he like the idea.

Moments later, Derek was pulling out and Stiles felt fatigue wash over him even as he groaned at the sensation. In moments, Stiles was drifting off to sleep, dreaming of wolves with blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you, but this chapter honestly flowed more for me. Maybe I'm just too attuned to Stiles' frame of mind. Anyway, sorry again for the delay. I suck.  
> Also, I'm sorry if you were expecting the marathon sex that's tagged to be in this chapter. That's for later.


End file.
